With single-minded purpose, Cobalt marched straight out of the Brimstone Institute of Demonics and down into Brimstone proper, his fists balled and his jaw set with determination. Deep down, his stomach had tied itself into a dozen knots, each burning with something he couldn't recognise. Shock? Frustration? Denial, even? He wasn't sure.

He wasn't really sure of anything at that moment.

"Brass Atticus Trayer..." he repeated to himself, over and over as he walked straight down the middle of the road.

Cars and pedestrians alike ground to a halt as the Incubus passed, but he was deaf to their outraged cries and indignant honks. Far above, the crimson clouds grew darker and more turbulent as the wind rose in temperature. By the time Cobalt reached his childhood home, the storm was almost upon him.

He shunted the front door open and made a beeline for the living room, where he could hear the sounds of a TV playing. Throwing the door open, he stepped inside to find his mother sitting on a couch, a glass of red wine clutched in her hand as she watched a movie. Jezebel Trayer nearly spilled her beverage all over herself as her son burst in.

"S- Snookums! What are you doing here? Don't you have work today?" she asked in a surprised tone, checking the clock on the mantelpiece.

"Who was he?!" Cobalt demanded, fists shaking.

He had never felt this angry before, and although he anticipated the answer, he still needed to hear it from her.

Jezebel's eyes widened with confusion.

"Who's who? Snookums, what are you talking about? Are you feeling okay? Do you want me to call-?"

"Brass Atticus Trayer!"

Jezebel's voice caught dead in her throat as the wine glass almost slipped from her grasp. Her entire body went rigid as her eyes widened. Behind her, the Succubus' tail was the only thing that moved; coiling and thrashing with tension.

"Wh- Where did you... How...?" was all she managed to gutter.

"Mom! Tell me who he is!"

She shook her head slowly as tears welled in her eyes.

"I- I can't... Th- They told me not to... Snookums, I- I...!"

Stepping forward, Cobalt grabbed his mother's shoulders, steadying her and causing some of her wine to splash to the floor.

"Tell me. Please," he urged softly, teeth gritted.

She took a deep breath. Once she exhaled, Jezebel's mask of joviality slipped away. Cobalt was so used to her always smiling and laughing, seeing her like this was almost scary. Her face darkened and grew more sorrowful as her eyes glinted with haunted wistfulness. Tears began to roll down her cheeks as she finally opened your mouth.

"Brass... He's my husband... He's your father, snookums..." she said in a small, quiet voice.

Cobalt staggered back, his legs weakened by her words.

Not once in his life had he ever wondered who his father was. Why would he; it was normal for Lust demons to be raised by one parent. It was just something that he expected and accepted. But now that he was hearing this...

It all made sense.

"B- Brass... The Hellhound... Was my father...?" he breathed.

"Is your father!" Jezebel suddenly snapped.

Cobalt flinched. He had never seen his mother lose her patience like that. In kind, the Succubus gasped at her own outburst, and suddenly rushed forward to wrap her son up in a hug.

"I- I'm sorry... It's just..." she murmured, choking up from the tears.

He nodded slowly.

"He was an Incubus... Like me..."

"Yes... Just... Sit down, please... If I'm going to tell you, I want to tell you right."

Taking his hands, they both sat down on the couch. Jezebel was shaking.

"When I first met Brass - your father - I was struggling. With my jobs, with my career, with your sisters... half-sisters... We met at a winter market. And it was just love at first sight. He was younger than me, and yet we felt like a perfect match. A brash Incubus straight from the West Country... He was a dream," she sighed, smiling sadly.

Her grip on her son's hands tightened.

"Between his studies and troubles at school, he took time out of his days to help me with whatever he could. He bought me groceries when I couldn't afford them. He looked after the girls when I had auditions at the theatre. He even took me places on his bike. Your father was an old-fashioned romantic, and I'm not ashamed to say that I fell hard for him."

Jezebel went quiet for a moment.

"I... still have some of his things, snookums. If you want to see," she said, looking him in the eyes.

Still processing it all, Cobalt just nodded meekly, prompting his mother to step out of the living room and up the stairs.

Like as not, chaos runs in your blood.

I've seen what a Trayer can do.

There's some things about the Hellhound that you'll need to figure out by yourself.

Mistress Viola. Lorenzo Suyas. Caeneus Wyatt and the Rowdy Boys. Each and every one of them spoke of Brass like a fable hero, larger than life. To find out that he was his father... it just defied reason. Cobalt wasn't anything like him. He could barely lift a finger to defend himself against his own rambunctious students. How...?

Before long, Jezebel returned, lugging an old storage trunk behind her. Setting it down in front of Cobalt, she lifted the lid and began pulling things out. Old records, motorcycle tools, boxing tape, empty bottles... and a sleeveless battle jacket belonging to some biker gang called the Dustop Hellhounds, covered in patches. The Incubus held the garment in his hands, silently running his fingers along the wing holes in the back of the toughened black denim.

"He was a gang member...?" he asked quietly, glancing up at Jezebel.

She shook her head.

"Not exactly. His father - your grandfather - was. Darius Trayer. But he got cancer, and rather than undergo chemotherapy, he spent all of his treatment money on sending Brass across the sea. For the chance at a better life. This jacket was his, and your father wore it with pride. Just like..."

Trailing off, Jezebel reached over and ran her fingers along the tie hanging from her son's neck.

His eyes widened.

"This was...?!"

"It was all he had to give to me, when the end came. When Brass learned of his fate, he asked just one thing of me; the only thing he ever requested."

She took another deep breath and clasped her hands.

"He wanted to leave a legacy. He wanted a child for his memory to live on through. And I was so happy to have one with him."

Clasping her son's cheeks in her hands for a moment, Jezebel pulled him into a hug. Where he usually found Jezebel's hugs overly stifling and uncomfortable, Cobalt felt no such sensation. Instead, he felt strangely warm; sad and relieved in equal measure.

"We had you, snookums. By the time your were born, he was already gone. The nurses were so sorry to tell me that you were born an Incubus, but I was so happy to hold you in that moment. You were the spitting image of him. Still are," the Succubus sighed, pulling back.

She slipped a photograph into his hands. Raising an eyebrow, he carefully smoothed it out and held it up to the light.

It was a group picture, taken by an untrained hand. He could see a solemn Oni standing by a Fallen in a wheelchair, as well as an Imp, a Nymph and a stocky Glutton. They were all holding their weapons and grinning at the camera.

"The Rowdy Boys..." he murmured, looking at each in turn.

"His best friends. Here. There he is," Jezebel added, tapping the centre of the photograph.

Indeed, standing in between his closest allies was an Incubus, dressed in a messy B.I.D. uniform with the biker jacket replacing the blazer. His face was scruffy and his hair was tied back into a short ponytail, but the resemblance was uncanny. The structure of the face, the colour of the eyes... The only major difference was the burn running from Brass' right cheek down the side of his neck to his upper arm.

He looked strong. Confident. Stalwart.

"He's unarmed," Cobalt commented, noting his father's empty hands.

"Brass refused to use magic. Instead, he had these, passed down from his father; Rtnetpas and Direm. He called them Rtne and Dire for short."

Looking up, he watched as Jezebel produced a pair of old, heavily corroded knuckledusters from a small box. One was blue and the other was red, but both were cracked and damaged beyond repair.

He frowned. Those names were Tongues for North and South, but he could have sworn he had seen them before...

"I only got these back a few months ago. He had buried them in a cave, you see. I'm not sure why. He had his quirks," Jezebel mused, gently stroking the knuckledusters.

"Were they what he used? In the Damned Defense?" asked Cobalt.

His mother's face went dark.

"Oh... you know about that, then?"

He nodded, prompting her to sigh.

"Well... I suppose there's no point in keeping anything from you anymore, snookums. Yes, your father used these to fight a Devil during the Damned Defense."

"What was it like? What happened?"

"I... didn't take part in much of the fighting. I was doing what I could to provide first-aid to those injured in the attacks. The police and the military couldn't do much, but Brass and his friends... they put up a real fight. A couple of times I thought we were all going to die, but your father's faith in us never wavered. When it all came to a head, he ripped that bastard's horns clean from his head and left him broken and bleeding. He buried those too, down in the cove."

Cobalt's blood ran cold at her words. That box that Alison needed to retrieve from the cave deep beneath the water... it contained Diate's severed horns...?

As that horrid realisation struck the Incubus, he was suddenly alerted to sobbing as Jezebel buried her face in her hands.

"A- After all was settled, your father married me. I- It was such a beautiful ceremony; small and joyous. He didn't even have to ask for me to take his name, because I wanted him to be remembered. It's not fair that they just wiped him from the annals of history like that! He's a hero!"

Collapsing into Cobalt's arms, it took everything in the Incubus' power not to topple over from the added weight. Jezebel... how long had she been holding all of this in? He couldn't have imagined how hard it was for her to keep it together for all these years, especially if he resembled his father as closely as she said...

"... I miss him, snookums... Every day, I miss him more and more... I'd give anything to see that smile of his again... To hear that wonderful western twang... To be held by his strong arms..." the Succubus blubbed, grabbing the back of his shirt.

Cobalt swallowed hard.

"Mom? Did he ever mention... seeing roses?" he asked slowly, unsure of how to word the question.

Slowly she pulled back and looked him in the eyes, her own glinting with concern.

"... You... You haven't seen any, have you...?" she asked in a stifled tone.

Before he could answer, Jezebel's eyes opened wide as she pulled his upper lip back with her thumb. She gasped.

"Snookums...! Y- Your teeth...!"

She looked back up, horrified.

"B- But...! It can't be...!"

Pulling back, Cobalt abruptly shook his head and got to his feet, his heart beating faster by the minute. No, he couldn't dally here. If that box really did contain Diate's severed horns, and if the Devil really was at Inferno like Izzbelle had said, then the situation was much more dire than he realised. He was paranoid enough knowing that he was out there, but at least he had some cold comfort in knowing that Diate was incapable of casting magic. But with his horns...

"Mom, I have to go," the Incubus gasped, turning for the door.

"Snookums, wait!" Jezebel cried, reaching for him.

But he didn't turn, and left without another word.

He had to get back to B.I.D. Something was wrong in the pit of his stomach, and far above, the storm was about to hit.